Hiccup woke up, blinded by the light that was shining in his eyes. He felt amazing. Neither pain nor exhaustion. The light was blinding him as it got brighter. He looked around himself to find himself standing on a line. His left foot on the light side and his right on the darker one. Amazed, he looked around, enjoying the contrast. Looking down he saw no blood, wounds or scars. Only perfectly soft skin hidden behind a tunic, some pants and a fur boots. They weren't tore to pieces or blood stained, just clean, cleaner than he could ever make them.
Without noticing, a figure stepped out of the light moving towards Hiccup. The figure had an old stick in his hand that anyone back on Berk would recognize. It wore a dress that could make it look like one of the gods, and its long grey hair was braided over his chest similar to Stoick's. Hiccup turned around as he felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes widened at who it was, and suddenly he threw himself over the man standing in front of him, crying in to his shoulder. "I've missed you, Ruthus," He said, hugging his grandfather tighter.
"Shh, It's ok, I'm here, I'm here," Ruthus paused and pulled away, placing his old hand on the boy's cheek. "You shouldn't be here, it's too early," He wiped his tears away from his eyes, embracing his grandchild. They were really close, and Ruthus felt heartbroken as he watched over him the last few days. "You have to go back before the reaper comes after you. Go now my child," He said, pushing Hiccup over to the darker side. Hiccup didn't want to go back to whatever it was he had to go back to. He had no memory of everything that had happened, but there was one question he had been wondering about ever since he came across old Ruthus.
"Wait! W-where's mom?" He asked, tears running down his cheeks. Every time he thought of his mother he would wish he could fall to the ground and cry, but he didn't. He refused to let the people of Berk see how weak he really was. Ruthus was taken aback at the sudden question, but now that he thought about it, he didn't really know. He hadn't seen her in Valhalla which was weird, considering him reuniting with all his loved ones. Valka was just as close to Ruthus as Hiccup was, and it broke him to find out she was taken by dragons, but then realization hit him. His Hiccup had managed to befriend a Dragon, then what if she had too? What if she was still out there? It was a possibility, but he didn't want to tell the boy. So he gave him a clue.
"I don't know, she's not here, that's for sure. Now get back before the Grim Reaper finds you!" He practically yelled the last part and shoved Hiccup further to the dark side. Hiccup hesitated, but ran shortly after, into the darkness just to be blinded by the light once again, and then he blacked out.
Stoick stood up; holding Hiccup's lifeless body in his hands, and began to walk back to his men. He didn't care if it took him hours to get back. He was too heartbroken to care. To care about anything else than his son. This was his entire fault, he kept saying to himself. The dragon riders walked behind him, tears in their eyes as they stayed in silence for the boy who saved them all. None of them dared to speak, afraid of what Stoick might do. He would probably yell, scream or even cry as he talked to them.
It only took them half an hour to get back to the docks where the war was going on. The dragons protected them along with the Vikings to make a clear path for them. Many of them were shocked to see the heir of Berk dead in the chief's arms. Some thought he was just asleep, but once they looked at Stoick, they knew it was for real. Outcast's was shocked to, and many of their bodies was spread across the ground, but there was none that belonged to the people of Berk. They made their way to one of the boats where Gobber was talking to Spitelout about the war.
"Anyone of ours that is gone?" Gobber asked him, looking in a different direction than the approaching chief.
"None so far," Spitelout replied, getting a new weapon to fight with. Gobber was about to reply when Stoick cut him off, his voice cracking as he said the two words.
"There's one," Gobber turned around, confused at first, but his eyes met Hiccup's lifeless body and his jaw fell to the ground, tears forming in his eyes. Stoick walked past Gobber down under deck to a bedroom where he lay his son down. They stayed there for a couple of seconds, eyes closed as they thought of Hiccup.
Gobber kept thinking of what he would do without his apprentice. He would have to find a replacement, but he wouldn't want that. No one could replace Hiccup with his talents and knowledge, and no one could replace that big heart of his. Stoick sat down on one of the chairs beside the bed, head in his hands as he thought of Hiccup's childhood. No child should have to go through that. Children should be playing, exploring, have a good time. Not being hated by hundreds of Vikings, abused by his own father and bullied by the town for being a Hiccup.
"I-I'll go get the people of Berk to safety," Gobber said, walking up the stairs to the deck. He ordered the men and women to get back to the boats as the dragon riders held off the Vikings. As every Viking had settled back on board, leaving behind some weapons and shields, they set off towards Berk.
The rumors passed on to every Viking, about the death of Hiccup Haddock. Some hoped to find it a sick joke, but others had seen the boy themselves. Seen how torn apart he was. How his skin had been soaked with blood. No one dared to cheer of victory as they felt no need to. They felt no pleasure in winning as they actually really lost. Alvin managed to get his hands on Hiccup, and that was when they lost.
They may have won on the outside, but on the inside? On the inside, they felt more like having lost a great war or been humiliated in the Thawfest games, just ten times worse.
Stoick sat by his son's side, holding his small, injured hand in his large ones. He scanned the boy from head to toe, looking at the wounds he had. It was horrifying to think that someone could do this to such an innocent child. Torture them to get answers. If his son would die, he would've wanted it to be anything but this. Who knew how long he had to walk around with those wounds.
The worst part of the whole rescue mission was to watch Hiccup fall to the ground, getting whipped in front of their eyes and watch as he took his last breath. Stoick felt a hand on his shoulder, turning around to see Spitelout with his son, Snotlout. Snotlout watched Hiccup lay there lifeless. He may have bullied him for all those years just to impress Astrid, but they were still family, and he would never wish his cousin dead.
Stoick let go of Hiccup's hand, feeling a need for some fresh air. He walked away from his son, taking one last look at him. He scanned his body once more as a tear escaped his eye. His eyes scanning the body from his toe, slowly making its way up to his son's face.
Never had he taken time to look at the small freckles covering Hiccup's face and hands, the scar on his chin and the emerald green eyes. Stoick blinked once more, thinking it was all a hallucination. The tears made his vision blurry, making it harder for him to see anything. He walked back over to the side of the bed, kneeling down as he wiped the tears away from his face. Slowly, but surely, his vision cleared and he could see a shade of green eyes looking in the direction beside him.